Never a Dull Moment
by wolf-shadow666
Summary: "In which the land of untold stories should have been a warning that it wasn't just fairytales that were real." This is a Captain Cobra centered fic, set 4 years after season 6 and before season 7. Warning of language, Killian Whump, and BAMF!Henry.
1. Goosebumps, Really!

Hey guys, I have this posted under my Tumblr (black-wolf066) as well, and am currently trying to project my need for all things father/son or father/daughter that is Captain Cobra and KnightRook. So expect to see a lot of that in the future from me...

I'll also update when time allows, but i seriously don't see this being any longer than like 2, possibly 3, chapters.

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 **Chapter 1:** ** _Goosebumps_** **… Really?!**

 **Words:** 1827

 **Rating:** pg-13 (for language and whump I suppose)

 **Summary:** In which the land of untold stories should have been a warning, that it wasn't just fairytales that were real.

 **Warnings:** Killian Jones injured and BAMF!Henry protecting and taking care of him. (Slightly AU I guess considering I'm disturbing the canonical peace of Storybrooke and season 7 hasn't happened yet)

Henry should have expected this.

Their current predicament should not, in any way, have surprised him as much as it did. It was Storybrooke after all.

(You would think after six months filled with nothing but a crock full of crazy–beginning with his Aunt Zelena, watching the man he's grown to see as a dad die not once but _thrice_ , and ending with the madness that was the Black Fairy–that one would have become desensitized by now.)

Yet it had.

Four years of nothing but utter, blissfully wonderful, peace would do that to a person, he supposed.

So, like every disaster to wreak havoc on Storybrooke in the past, it had happened suddenly and without warning.

They had been on his grandparent's farm, with most of his convoluted family and their friends gathered to celebrate his graduation; all sides of the property filled with wide smiles and echoing with mirth filled shenanigans. It was just after food and presents (finally being handed down his Grandpa's broadsword, and the pleasant surprise of his moms and dad gifting him the brand new motorcycle hidden in the shed), that Henry found himself filled with contentment; his momentary stress of deciding what he wanted to do with the rest of his life taking a back seat for now (his first mistake he realized too late).

Out in the field, his little Uncle Neal and little Robin both were squealing joyously as they were chased across the grounds by old, faithful Wilby. And close by to them, was the ever watchful eye of his heavily pregnant grandma and Aunt Zelena; the two leaning against the wooden fence and smiling and laughing as their children were herded around by the sheep dog. In the house, both his mothers, Grace, Granny and Geppetto, were clearing the food away and getting the desserts ready, their easy chatter and laughter that filtered out of the opened windows nearly being drowned out by the impromptu 'sword' fight taking place by his Grandpa, his dad, August and Jefferson; the others goading the four good-naturedly as they observed from the sidelines.

Henry himself had just finished putting most of his presents away in the back of the bug, his hand reaching for the broadsword to put on top of the boxes, when it happened.

An orange swirling portal had opened up far off to the side of the house, the whirling wind it created blowing trash and table cloths across the ground as it slowly grew bigger in size and strength. Not bothering to slam the trunk shut, Henry gripped the handle of the now unsheathed sword tight and raced back around the house toward the backyard where he could hear orders being shouted over the panicked cries of the guests.

Across the field, Zelena and Snow were ushering the kids and those closest to their location to the barn, where Regina had poofed herself to the front of and was already throwing up a protection spell to shield them. He caught a glimpse of Emma doing the same to the house as he rounded the corner, with Jefferson, August and some of the dwarves ushering everyone else inside the home when the first attack from the portal came.

Green leafy vines, the size of tree trunks, shot out of the opening like speared whips; knocking David—wielding the pitchfork he had been using for the 'fight'—and Grumpy and Happy—both wielding their pickaxes, that none of the dwarves ever seemed capable of being without—off their feet while acting as a line of defense for the others. Henry was stopped from moving any closer to help as a few more vines came slithering toward him. He jumped and rolled, a move he had perfected over the years of being taught by David and Killian, and blocked the point of another vine from piercing straight into his gut.

"David!" He heard Killian shout; risking it as he spared a quick glance toward the house to see him, Jefferson and August racing down the steps, each with swords in hand that his grandpa had retired to be decoration over the fireplace.

In the next moment another vine was shooting for him, and Henry was forced to back up and farther away from help, and he cursed as he caught sight of the size the portal had become. It was large enough now to engulf the two-story barn, and the 'oh shit' feeling didn't recede as the massive plant the vines were attached too, came out of the gaping swirling hole; with more than seven dozen, equally as massive, Venus fly trap heads snapping and hissing as they slithered into view.

And seriously, the ventriloquist dummy cackling manically, and hitching a ride on the back of one of them, **_should_** **_not_** have surprised him as much as it had to know that _"Goosebumps"_ was a bloody thing too.

The battle froze just long enough for the puppet to ask where R.L Stine was hiding, before the chaos erupted again, and it took everything Henry had to avoid the slithering groping vines as they fanned the expense of the property; hissing in outrage as their path was blocked by the barriers his mothers threw up to prevent it from leaving and entering the rest of town.

"There's too many!"

"Regina, stop throwing you're fire, you'll burn us all!"

"Where's Henry!?"

"I thought he went into the house with the others!"

Henry didn't have the time to answer, let alone take stock of where his family was and how they were fairing off in the fight; too busy dodging, hopping, blocking and hacking away at the plants to do much of anything else. Sure he had come a long way in four years, but that didn't negate the fact that this was his first _real_ battle and not just a simple sparring match. His life—and his family's—were on the line here and he couldn't afford to risk anymore distractions; not at the wild rate the vines were multiplying and striking all around them.

"Jefferson, watch out!"

"Regina, there's your opening!"

The shouted commands from his family seemed to grow fainter the more he fought and dodged. He was no longer by the house, and every time he took one step forward to get himself back within range, the vines and snapping fly traps made him take two more in reverse.

"Henry! Behind you!"

This shout was louder and clearer as he twirled with his sword up to see a fly trap aiming right for him. It was easily bigger than he was, with saliva dripping off sharp thorn-like-teeth; the mucusy-liquid hissing and sizzling each time it made contact with the ground. He had just enough time to side-step left to dodge its gaping maw and slash his weapon to the right, the inhuman screech nearly bursting his eardrums as it made contact.

"Henry!"

He was about to yell that he was fine, but the air was suddenly knocked from his lungs by a body pushing him harshly to the ground on his stomach; barely having the time to register who had done it before the heavy weight was lifted off his back and a familiar, and very much _human_ , scream rent the air.

It shook him to his core and would forever be the new soundtrack to haunt his nightmares to come.

With a grunt, he rolled out of the way of yet another reaching, groping vine, and looked up to see Killian's upper body dangling upside down from the mouth of another fly trap; the former pirate's face scrunched in uninhibited agony as he dug his namesake into the head of the carnivorous plant.

"Killian! Henry! Where are you!?" he vaguely heard his mother cry out at the same time he yelled, "Dad!"

His body involuntarily tensed at the second scream that tore from Killian's throat; watching in utter horror as the mucusy concoction began to mix with blood as it eat at his clothes and exposed skin.

"Shit!"

Right, there wasn't time for panic, Henry thought frantically as he ducked and rolled away from another fly trap snapping its jaws toward him; his eyes sweeping around for an opening or a way to reach his dad when he spotted it. With a dive over a vine, and a well-timed swing to take down the chasing fly trap, he rolled onto his feet and used the opened space to race head long for another; using the momentum to jump and spring up toward the barely conscious pirate.

With a shout of strain on his shaking arm muscles, he managed to dig the sword into the upper stem of the thing to prevent himself from falling back to the ground; cringing as another ear-splitting screech bellowed out and caused his ears to ring.

"Dad, hang on!" he yelled over the roar; yelping and clinging to the handle as the monster began to shake to and fro to try and dislodge him.

The movement only served to work the broadsword through the multi-cellular tissue however; effectively decapitating the head of the fly trap and causing him and the carcass holding Killian to fall back to the earth with a thud that once more stole the air from his lungs.

He _definitely_ was going to feel this come morning.

With the flailing and the screeching ringing louder, and some of the vines retreating to lick their wounds, Henry used the opportunity to roll and crawl toward the now unconscious pirate. Jabbing the point of his sword into its mouth, he began to pry open the jaws; hissing out in pain when the toxic saliva spluttered out and onto his exposed arms and hands. Gods did it hurt, far worse than anything he could remember (even that one time when he and his ex-girlfriend had unfortunately and _quite literally_ stumbled upon a fire ant hill), but he pushed through the scorching pain and moved as quickly as he could; knowing the monsters would be back with a vengeance otherwise as he worked.

It was after the third crunch of something breaking within the head as he worked it open, that Henry heard the movement from behind. He pivoted around with a rage filled cry as he swung the sword at its next victim, only to groan as they were replaced by two more (and Henry felt for all the world like Hercules battling the Hydra, only he wasn't a demi-god and his tired arms were screaming murder for a single moments respite).

As he hacked and blocked and dodged, keeping his protective stance by Killian's vulnerable form; he realized too late that they were being surrounded on all sides, the thick vines weaving into walls and effectively cutting them off from help by the rest of his family.

Than a portal opened under his feet and he and Killian were falling through it and landing only the bloody gods knew where.


	2. Toto, Where the Hell Are We?

Finally, i give you the second part that felt like pulling teeth to get done (Looking at you Henry, being an uncooperative little shit and forcing me to write most of chapter 3 _before_ I could even get chapter 2 at the 50% done mark).

Story is also under my Tumblr account (Black-wolf066)

Anyway, onward!

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 **Chapter 2: Toto, Where the Hell Are We?**

 **Words:** 2074

 **Rating:** pg-13 to be on the safe side

 **Summary:** In which the land of untold stories should have been a warning that it wasn't just fairytales that were real.

 **Warnings:** Killian Injured with Henry protecting and taking care of him. Also there will more than likely be medical inaccuracies here, but I did try and look up _some_ stuff beforehand… (so I hope it's not too terrible). Also wanted to say that this is mostly whump without a whole lot of plot because I just wanted to see a moment where it's just Killian and Henry, and where it's Henry's turn to shine and be the _hero_ and save our pirate in distress (This could also be the thing that gave Henry the idea of wanting to go off and find his own story to stay canon compliant with season 7). Slappy and the plant monster were only a plot device to get Henry and Killian to this point; they are mentioned again, I promise, but I won't really be delving into the chaos that is Storybrooke and how the others are handling it while the two are missing.

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For the third time, Henry felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as his back made contact with hard ground. The wounds on his hands and arms nagged for attention, everything else screamed and ached within him and for one selfish moment, he just laid there, staring blankly up into the foliage of palm fronds and tree leaves overhead, before finally rolling to take in their surroundings.

They were in a forest, that much was obvious, but it was the sweltering humidity that clung to his skin and caused the sweat to already begin beading from his pores, that had Henry tensing involuntarily.

Another realm; a forest filled mostly with palm trees; heat and humidity…

Gods no.

 _Please_ no.

Anywhere but _Neverland_.

All at once the world began to close in on him; the panic creeping in and his breathing coming out short and rugged as the environment triggered memory after unpleasant memory. The kidnapping, the manipulation, the near death experience, the _fear_ ; it pressed heavily on his chest and deprived him of oxygen, and somewhere in the back of his mind it dawned on him that he was suffering from a full blown panic attack.

 ** _Heathens_** something hissed in his head. **_Lawless, leaderless, demons_** it persisted; nagging at him to remember.

That's right...

There were still lost boys here; _monsters_ who had nearly added a fourth tick to his father's death count.

The thought of them somehow gave Henry the strength to roll for his sword and stand; half expecting the hellions to burst out of the undergrowth at any moment and surround them. Black spots danced in his vision and his arms shook for an entirely different reason as he pivoted in a circle, trying desperately to hear footsteps over the sounds of the forest.

Nothing.

Nothing but bird song and the skittering of critters too light to be human.

It was at this point that he _really_ took stock of the forest backdrop, at the flora that ornamented some of the shrubs and peppered across the ground. The Flora that didn't quite match Neverland's M.O. for innocent—otherworldly—but deadly. In fact, the more he looked, the more he realized this _couldn't_ be Neverland. There was no lingering scent of salt on the breeze from the sea, nor could he smell the putrid aroma of Neverlion weeds that populated nearly the entire island.

And the more he took notice of these differences, the more the fog around his mind began to clear. The black spots slowly receded, his muscles stopped shaking, and the heavy weight against his chest began to lift.

He was back in control of himself again.

With one final deep breath to shake loose the residual tendrils of panic, he pivoted and made his way over to the carcass of the fly trap; only to find during either the fall or harsh landing that Killian had been dislodged from its jaw and landed in a heap a few feet away.

"Dad?" he uttered as he approached and crouched by his side. "Dad?"

When he gained no response, Henry pushed on his shoulder until the pirate limply flopped onto his back; the knot in his throat disappearing only when he saw the shallow rise and fall of Killian's chest.

Alive, unconscious; but more importantly: _not dead_.

With that particular load lifted off his shoulders, he began to assess the injuries visible to him; cursing under his breath at where the thorns had pierced his abdomen. Gently, Henry pushed the bloodied fabric of Killian's vest and button-up shirt aside to inspect the lesions; each roughly half an inch in diameter and _hopefully_ no deeper than the first or second knuckle of his pinky finger. But what worried him more than something internal being punctured or ruptured was the festering skin around the rim; where the plants saliva had begun to slowly eat away at the flesh like acid.

Moving farther down, Henry cringed at Killian's lower half; finding his legs in an equal state of distress. There were multiple gaping, _melted,_ holes in his jeans, and the exposed skin he could see underneath was red and raw and beginning to bubble and blister much like the lesions on his abdomen.

The weight of the entire situation came crashing back down against his shoulders, and he vented his frustrations with a few more choice expletives (curses that would surely have scandalized Regina and more than likely would have had him grounded and the pirate hung by his toes from the branches of her apple tree). He didn't know where they were or the amount of danger they still might face here. Knew that being this out in the open was a terrible idea, but Killian was just heavy enough that Henry knew he'd struggle with carrying him; and he feared the amount of irreversible damage he could do if he jostled him around too much to bother trying. He knew a good amount of first aid (mostly out of necessity and partly because he and his mother had quickly found out Killian, for all his swagger, was naturally clumsy in a relaxed setting) but he wasn't a doctor.

He didn't know how to fix this.

Glancing at the tattered, contaminated clothes and the festering skin, he amended that earlier thought, for there was at least one thing he knew he _could_ do.

Remembering the safety procedure drilled into his head when he had taken Chemistry last year; Henry began to unbuckle Killian's belt and sent a silent prayer to whatever deity listening that the pirate wasn't going commando underneath the ruined denim.

He knew it wasn't wise to expose the wounds for fear of infection, but he also knew that not removing the contaminated apparel would make the situation far worse. It was the lesser of two evils; he mused as he averted his eyes and began the tedious struggle of shucking the unnecessarily tight skinny jeans as gently as he could. He held his breath every time the material would catch, cringing in sympathy when the disturbance would cause Killian to twitch or whimper, but the pain never doing much more to rouse him from his unconscious state. Mercifully—thank the gods for small miracles—the man was wearing boxer-briefs, the cotton material blessedly unharmed and not saturated in the mucusy acid as he began divesting him of his vest and shirt next (leaving the leather brace on after a brief mental debate and inspection that showed the dried hide looked untouched as well).

The next step would have been to thoroughly rinse the skin, but he couldn't hear any nearby water sources and even if he had, Henry was still left with the difficult situation of what to do. He still didn't want to move him much more than he already had, but he also couldn't just leave him unprotected and vulnerable to go find one either.

(Not for the first time did Henry wish he had magic. Magic would have made both their lives a little easier to endure right now).

Once again picking the lesser of two evils, he struggled to get all five-feet-eleven-inches and one-hundred-and-ninety-odd pounds worth of deadweight pirate onto his back (increasingly becoming more and more anxious that he wasn't getting anything more out of his dad than a few whimpered groans), and proceeded to head off in a random direction in the hopes of finding help or water.

As he moved, his knees threatened to buckle under the added bulk, the struggle made even harder as he tried to keep Killian supported with his left arm while his right hand kept a firm hold of the broadsword. He was exhausted. He was worried. His arms hurt both from strain and his own wounds sustained in battle. He was concerned for the man he loved like a second father. He was concerned for the rest of the family back home, their fate and the battle completely unknown to him.

It was all too much to process on a day that _should_ have been _exciting_ and _stress free_.

The quiet groan, and what sounded like the breathy exhale of his name, had Henry pausing in his stumbling, laborious, trek roughly fifteen minutes later. He couldn't twist his head around enough to look, not with the weight nearly bending him forward and the biceps of Killian's arms framing either side of his face. He held his breath, expecting to hear it again, but when it didn't come, he chalked it up to his hopes getting the best of him and pushed onward.

"Hen—ry…" came the breathy slur of his name once more.

"Dad?" he froze, his hope doing summersaults in his chest that the man was finally waking up.

"Hen…ry?" it was still barely above a whisper, but the sound and the sluggish flinch of sinew moving beneath skin as his once limp arm clumsily wrapped cross his chest to steady himself, was enough to nearly floor him with relief. "Hen…ry?"

"Yeah dad, I'm here." He choked out as soothingly as he could; the overwhelming emotion causing his tenor to warble a bit. "I got you."

The arm squeezed slightly to show him he heard, as he trekked forward once again, shifting him up a little higher when he began to slip down again with an apology. A few more paces and the distant sound of what he hoped to be a bubbling stream reached his ears, and the grin that broke out on his face threatened to stretch from ear to ear in his palpable relief.

"Stay with me, dad." he pleaded with a bit of desperate urgency when the arm began to slip and the muscles of Killian's body grew limp again. "Just stay with me, okay?" his stumbling steps as he picked through the overgrown foliage, grew just as urgent as he attempted to close the last remaining paces between them and the river as quickly as he could. "Come one dad, I've lost one father already; _please_ don't make me lose you too. Don't put mom and me through this again. You're a survivor, remember?" he panted out with the exertion as he marched. "So, _survive_ damn it! …Because I can't do this… not again…"

The undergrowth began to disperse from under his feet and within the next couple of strides; he broke through the ferns and low hanging palm fronds to the sight of a river with a lazily babbling current. Wasting not a second more, he strode forward, dropping his sword down by the edge of the bank and carefully made his way into and over the slippery rocks toward the middle of the brook; happy to find it was deep enough to reach a little past his waistline. The tepid liquid cooled his overheated skin as he shifted Killian's legs down and maneuvered them both around to where he could support his weight and allow the current to rinse and sooth both of their wounds.

As he worked to help the process along, he grew concerned at how clammy and warm and pale in pallor his skin looked; the terrifying thought of the plant acid containing lethal venom not helping his panic in the slightest.

"Come on, stay with me… _please_ stay with me."

He didn't get his hopes up this time at the quiet hissing and winces he heard and felt as he brushed the grime away from the wounds; at least not until Killian's good hand moved to clutch his forearm in a surprising vice grip considering his present condition.

"Hen...ry?"

"Yeah," he soothed, shifting to grip the forearm attached to the hand and giving it a squeeze. "It's me, I'm here. You're safe, _we're_ safe." for the most part anyway, was the unspoken afterthought as he glanced at their surroundings.

A grunt was his response and he opened his mouth to say more when he heard it.

A rustling in the underbrush coming from behind them.

His head snapped toward the forest edge, cursing that there wasn't enough time to get either of them away or toward his dropped weapon as a group of people—with striking white hair and lethal boar spears—appeared out of the overgrowth.

Neon blue war paint decorated their caramel skin as they inched closer to the river with their weapons raised, some gesturing while others shouted at him in a harsh, guttural language Henry didn't comprehend.

"Well, shit."


	3. The Grand Underground City

**(((A/n: Humor me because I'm curious. How many of you guessed right about the group of people from last chapter?**

 **This is also posted under my Tumblr account (black-wolf066 for anyone interested) i do have other fics posted there that aren't posted here. Also I'm sorry this took so long, but between the Holiday coming up and me working 50+ hours between my two jobs, it's made things a little difficult.**

 **Fair warning: chapter 4 will probably take just as long for me to get out because of my schedule.  
**

 **Anyway, enjoy Chapter 3 guys!))))**

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 **Chapter 3: The Grand Underground City**

 **Words:** 3469

 **Rating:** pg-13 to be on the safe side

 **Summary:** In which the land of untold stories should have been a warning that it wasn't just fairytales that were real. (Killian whump and BAMF Henry)

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When it rained, it poured apparently because that's just the type of luck his family seemed to have in these situations.

 _At least it's not the Lost Boys._ Henry's subconscious unhelpfully supplied.

Yes, on the one hand, they weren't the Lost Boys; but on the other, they could be just as wicked and ruthless (or cannibals ready to sacrifice them to whatever deity they believed in). Though something about their white hair did strike Henry as familiar; even if he couldn't quite place why.

His eyes bounced back and forth from them to their sharp weapons; his heart beating a frantic staccato against his ribcage as they inched their way into the water. His hold on Killian tightened, his body tensing and straining to compensate the sagging weight as he tried desperately to look for a way out of the situation (and half hoping, despite knowing better, that this was all some nightmare and he'd wake up from it soon).

They continued to shout at him in their language, gesturing for them to move and jabbing their spears at the air in irritation the longer he didn't.

"Please," He finally spoke, doubting it would do any good, but he hoped the soft tenor of his voice would allow them to know they weren't a threat. "We mean you no harm. I'm weaponless and this," He gestured to Killian's hook and the arm it was attached too. "Is just a replacement for his hand. Please, we need help; _he_ needs help."

One of the older men shifted in his stance, his eyes going from Killian's hook to another younger tribalmen standing by him. He gestured wildly at it, his harsh language and movements spurring the others to murmur amongst themselves too.

If they hadn't still been watching him, Henry would have taken the opportunity to shuffle away (even if he knew the task would have been near to impossible to do so quickly enough to matter). The adrenaline racing through his veins was beginning to make his chest ache with the pressure as the men argued presumably over their fate. Then, all at once, the conversation cut off after a bark from the younger man, and the older turned back to face him with narrowed eyes.

"How is it possible that Hook is still alive?" he interrogated harshly.

Henry faltered at the sudden crisp English and the use of Killian's moniker; dread of a different kind beginning to mingle with the rest of his anxious emotions. Much like his other mother, Killian had made many an enemy in his late quest for vengeance; the only difference was Killian had lived centuries longer to make even more of them than Regina ever had.

He _did not_ like their odds.

The younger man next to the first—maybe a little older than Henry himself—moved forward in spite of the grunts of protest from the others. He was adorned in rich cerulean and golden trimmed cotton pants, his upper half left exposed to show off his fit physique, the neon tribal markings tattooed against his caramel skin, and a necklace with a light blue crystal that seemed to glow under the sun. The color of his clothing and the golden jewelry he wore set him apart from the rest who adorned themselves in simple earth tones and silver armlets. He regarded Henry with demanding ice blue eyes as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Is this Captain Hook?" he commanded.

"Yes," Henry figured either way they both would be damned if he didn't answer honestly, and he watched in awed confusion as the guarded expressions on all their faces dropped. "Who are you? And how do you know the Captain?"

He spoke again; his hand going up for the others to lower their weapons. "I am prince Hakan, and I believe it is I who should ask _you_ these questions."

"My name is Henry," deciding that they weren't in any immediate danger anymore; he paused just long enough to debate how to proceed with his next sentence. But time was of the essence. He couldn't afford to waste any more of it by explaining; not with Killian leaning more and more heavily against him the longer they stood there. "I'm his son." His response relaxed the rest of the tribalmen and Hakan measured him as if trying to spy a lie (which he knew the prince would find none, only a half-truth that Henry believed whole-heartedly). "Please, we were attacked and separated from our family, he needs help."

Hakan barked something in the throaty language and two of the burly looking tribalmen began to wade forward. As they drew near, moving to take Killian from him, Henry hesitated and shifted away on instinct; not quite trusting what was ordered when he couldn't understand what was said.

"Fear not Henry, son of Hook," Hakan spoke gently in English. "We offer you our help. Ahanu and Chaska will not harm him; you have my word as prince."

He finally relented at the sincerity with which the other spoke; his body involuntarily sagging in relief the moment the added weight was lifted. "Thank you, your highness." He replied gratefully with a small bow of his head; cringing slightly in sympathy as Killian hissed out in pain as the men moved to better accommodate him.

"Please," The prince started with a slight shake of his head and a raise of his hand as they all moved for dry land. "No need for such formalities from the son of our ally." He turned to one of the lanky tribalmen and ordered. "Tapu, run ahead and warn the healers that their assistance is needed, then let my mother and father know that the patrol is being cut short and we'll be arriving with honored guests."

As Tapu raced back into the forest to heed the order, Henry bent to retrieve his sword and inquired. "Ally? How is it you know my father?"

"Hakan was young, he does not remember much." The older man who had spoken first—the one that Henry now assumed was the prince's right-hand man or guard—answered. "But the Captain saved our prince from his own imprudence."

Whatever story was to be told there, Henry wasn't going to get it from anyone here, for the man simply left it at that; barking orders to the others in their guttural language as they began to march forward. Henry quickly jogged ahead to fall into step with the prince; his eyes never leaving Killian who was being carried on the back of Chaska. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, but his concern curbed his curiosity; his anxiety returning as he realized the pirate had fallen unconscious once again.

Two questions; however, begged to be answered. "Where are we heading? And how do you know English?"

"You'll see," Hakan vaguely replied, turning with a slight twinkle of mischief gleaming at Henry as he finished. "And we know _many_ languages, Henry. French, Spanish, and Latin just to name off a few."

"Really?"

" _Oui_ ," Hakan answered cheekily in French.

"Incredible," he breathed out even as Hakan shrugged his shoulders. The cocky grin however, never left the prince's face as they continued to venture through the undergrowth.

(***)

Conversation between him and the prince had lulled off not long after.

And for a long while, Henry remained silent; lost in thought as the murmured conversation filtered around him while they picked their way through the forest. They were safe, but the worry over Killian's condition and the unknown fate of the rest of his family petrified him. Did anyone else get transported to a different realm? Did they manage to defeat Slappy and the Plant Monster? Would they find a way home only to discover no one left to go home too? Would Killian survive to even make the trip back with him?

The uncertainty of it all made his stomach roil.

"We're here."

Hakan's announcement snapped Henry out of it, and he gave his surroundings a good once over, seeing nothing but trees fanning three sides while in front of them was the start of a steep rocky mountainside that stretched as far as his eye could see. There were no huts, as he had expected to be led to. No openings in the rock face to lead to any civilization either. It was a dead end, and Henry briefly wondered if it was a trap before the prince was turning to face him.

"These crystals," he gestured to the necklace he and the others wore. "Allow us passage through the gate." with a gentle smile, he lifted his hand up for Henry to take and explained. "Seeing as neither of you possess one, you'll need to be connected to a bearer if you wish to pass through safely."

Henry watched in awe as one by one the men passed through the rocks like ghosts. It wasn't until Chaska and Killian disappeared in the rock that Henry realized he was gawking. He turned back to Hakan, who was grinning amusedly at him with his arm still patiently extended for him to take.

"You ready, Henry?"

Moving to take the offered hand, he took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah, let's go."

He braced himself as they moved forward, half expecting himself to smack into the stone while the other half expected to feel it pass through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut the moment they reached the apparent gate, feeling a faint electric current run through his nerves and causing his toes to curl at the tingling sensation.

As quick as the feeling came, it left and Henry opened his eyes to see a dark wide open cavern lit by the blue glow of the crystals around the tribalmens necks. He turned to face the way they came, seeing solid wall and two tall stone statues standing guard at the hidden gate; their eyes and the hieroglyphics craved into them glowing a similar blue.

"Wow." Was all he could manage to utter out.

Hakan's barking laugh startled him, and he turned back to see the others were already making their way down a narrow pathway toward a large cave opening.

The prince moved to clap him on the shoulder with a grin and said. "If you're amazed by this, then I can't wait to see your reaction to my home. Come, we're almost there."

(***)

After what felt like a half an hour more of walking, a bright light up ahead penetrated the dull blue glow. His curiosity grew as he heard an echoing hum of something akin to a motor and the rushing of water; the excitement dulling his apprehension slightly at the prospect of seeing what was creating the noises, and to see the civilization that built those statues. He picked his pace up as they trekked up the steep incline and the moment they exited the cave, the men stepped to the side to clear a path and waited (save for Chaska, who continued onward along a bridge to take Killian to the awaiting healers).

The moment his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight filtering in from above, the air left his lungs in one fell swoop at the wondrous vision before him.

Metallic contraptions flew and whizzed by all around, but the metropolis itself was truly and utterly breathtaking. Henry found he had no words, for anything he could say wouldn't even scratch the surface of what he felt as he gazed, slack jawed, around the massive cavern and the glistening city of hewn stone. It sat upon a circular platform and was surrounded entirely by water that fell into the abyss below. Giant stone or metal statues stood guard on the outer edge and the natural light from above gave the water and the billowing mist clouds from the falls a crystalline sheen.

That bizarre deja-vu feeling nagged at him again, the memory or the knowledge hovering just out of reach.

"Welcome to our home, Henry." Hakan broke him out of his stupor as he moved to stand beside him. "To the city of Atlantis."

(***)

The city (of all the places to wind up, it was _Atlantis. The lost freaking empire Atlantis_ from the freaking movie he hadn't seen since he was five) was even more amazing up close.

People bustled around everywhere he was led, while the hover vehicles continued to buzz past high above their heads. Most of the men had dispersed the moment they entered the metropolis, save for Peyak—Hakan's personal guard (that Henry had guessed correctly)—and the prince himself.

"Are you sure you do not wish to be checked by one of our healers?" Hakan urged for the third time as they led him into the heart of the city where the palace resided.

"I'm sure, it doesn't really hurt anymore." Henry answered distractedly, his eyes bouncing from one thing to another and absorbing as much detail as he possibly could.

"If you're sure…" Hakan sighed out, and Henry saw him sharing a brief glance with Peyak from the corner of his eye.

Their journey came to a halt outside two towering doors, and Henry's eyes traveled from the beautifully etched markings to the woman standing tall and regal before them. She looked no older than his own mothers; wearing robes in a similar cerulean and gold color as the prince and a tribal tattoo marked under her left eye (her eyes also a similar color to the prince and making it obvious that this was either his sister or mother). A golden headdress framed her face like a crown and her long, loose white hair fanned down across her shoulders and back. She offered a warm, welcoming smile to him even as Hakan stepped forward to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

"Mama, where is Papa and Catori?"

"Your father and sister have long since gone down to teach the daily lesson." She answered in a rich, soothing tenor, her eyes flitting to her son for a single moment before they were back on him.

"Henry," Hakan began. "Allow me to introduce you to my mother; Queen Kida." pivoting back to his mother, he supplied. "Mama, this is Hook's son."

A dark eyebrow rose as she strode to stand before him. "You are Hook's son?" he noted she threw the question more to herself than to him; her hand moving to tilt his head this way and that as she examined his face. Whatever she saw, it must have been what she was looking for as she met his eyes and grinned. "I can see it, though I believe you take after your mother more, yes?"

"More or less." He answered ambiguously with a smile in return.

"Come, Henry, I'm sure you have much you would like answered."

"I do, but…"

"Your father is in good hands, Henry." Hakan reassured him as he and Peyak moved to leave; throwing over his shoulder as he went. "Stay and ask your questions. It will help distract you for a while."

"My son is right; there is nothing more you can do for him at this point. Now come," she gestured for him to follow as the guards moved to open the doors for them. "Let us talk."

(***)

"Thank you," he said kindly; throwing the older woman serving them an appreciative smile as he accepted the tea. Staring into the steaming liquid, he pushed forward with his conversation with the Queen. "I just… I don't understand how we got _here_."

"Portals work in mysterious ways, young one." Kida answered as she accepted her own cup. "But from what I was led to understand, most portals will take you wherever or to whomever you're envisioning as you pass through."

"But that's the thing; I wasn't thinking of this place—or any place for that matter—other than home." he sighed out tiredly. "I had hoped the portal would have just dropped us off at the house or something."

"You may have been thinking of home, but you also did not go through the portal alone. Who's to say Hook was not thinking of this place when you passed through?"

"But dad was unconscious at the time…"

"I've found, over my long years, that sometimes an unconscious thought can prove to be stronger than a conscious one."

"I guess so…" he murmured with a furrowed brow and took a tentative sip of the hot liquid in the clay mug.

It was the only explanation that was making any sort of sense at the moment, so what else could he really say? If it were true, than he was incredibly relieved that they stumbled here, and not back in Neverland. That dreadful island and the Lost Boys were something he hoped he'd _never_ have to experience _ever_ again.

A comfortable silence lulled between them, Henry lost in his thoughts and Kida silently observing him as she sipped at her own tea.

"Your Majesty?"

"Please Henry, no need for formalities here," she smiled. "Call me Kida."

"Kida," he nodded and continued. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you come to know my father? He's told us plenty of stories of different realms he's traveled too, but I don't remember him ever talking about Atlantis."

"He was sworn not to." she answered simply. "Not many people of this realm, or any other, know of our existence. Greed and War forced us here once, young one, and I lost my mother for it." a troubled expression crossed her face than, and Henry wondered just how far off the myths and movie had been; wondered what really happened in Kida's past before Milo stumbled upon them. "We take precautions wherever we can."

"Then how did my father come to know of you and this place?"

"It was quite by accident really. From what I remember him telling me, he was on a mission of sorts to retrieve an artifact for someone–come to think of it, he never did answer my question of who he was retrieving it for." she muttered mostly to herself before shaking her head and continuing. "He hadn't been the only one looking for it, unfortunately. There had been another crew from this world that sought after it and the power it contained; our people didn't even know of its existence or how close to our kingdom it was…" a shadow crossed over her face again. "My son—Hakan—was _very_ young and extremely _foolish_ at the time. He had gone against our orders by venturing up to the surface, where he stumbled upon the artifact." she sighed out and visibly deflated with it, and Henry got the impression that the young prince had been more than just a handful to his parents and people. "Hakan was at the wrong place at the wrong time. But Hook… he saved him from that other crew. He didn't have too, he could have made off with the relic and left my son to die, but he didn't and for that my husband and I will always be indebted to your father. He—and anyone he calls friend or family—is _more_ than welcome in our city."

"Thank you," he answered gratefully, the smile he gave her not quite reaching his eyes as his thoughts once again shifted to worry.

"He'll be alright, young one." She answered knowingly, soothingly. "He's with the best healers our kingdom has to offer. But I'm afraid you'll have to be patient while they work; these things take time if you want it to be done right."

"Am I allowed to go see him?"

"When the healers are done, I'll bring you too him myself." she assured. "But until then, I believe it is time for you to go see a healer yourself." She stated as she gestured to the visible wounds on his hands and arms.

"I'm fine." He shook his head. "I don't want to distract anyone from treating him right now."

"Non-sense, I believe your father would be very displeased if you were to ignore it any longer for his sake." The look she sent him—the look of an unyielding mother (the same look he's seen frequently on both Regina and Emma over the years)—cut him off before he could think to argue farther. "You will not win this argument young one; do not even try. I don't ask this as a queen, I ask this as a mother who would want the same thing done for my own kin." She called to one of the guards in Atlantian, gesturing with her free hand and Henry didn't need to understand the language to know what she was ordering.

There was just no arguing with a mother.


	4. Recovery

**Rating: pg-13 to be on the safe side**

 **Summary: In which the land of untold stories should have been a warning that it wasn't just fairytales that were real. (Killian whump and BAMF Henry)**

 **Words: 3637**

 **(((A/N: Sorry that this took so long. Between the holidays and my own muse jumping ship to write other things, it's been difficult to just sit down and flesh the chapter out. There should be one more chapter before I call "Dull Moment" done, but we'll see how that one goes.))))**

 **This story is also on my tumblr account (black-wolf066 for anyone interested). I don't always publish everything from tumblr on here, so just keep that in mind.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Recovery**

The distant echo of the falls, filtered in from the open archways of the room and into Henry's ears as he sat with his thoughts. The repetitive rumble of the water was soothing, but it wasn't enough to bring total relaxation as he shifted—for what felt like the umpteenth time—in the rough, wooden chair by Killian's bedside.

It was late in the night, or possibly even early in the morning, but for the most part the metropolis was silent. The whirling of the vehicles and the low din from the markets had long since stopped; the citizens having all mostly gone to bed already. Not everyone was asleep however, for Henry could still hear a few of the healers, tasked with watching Killian's fragile condition tonight, murmuring lowly in Atlantian in the adjoining room.

He shifted his legs once again on the mattress—being mindful not to knock into Killian's own—to try and bring a bit of circulation back into them and his sore tailbone. He knew he should be sleeping in the second bed that was provided to him, but his mind was too wired to shut off. Not with the day's chaotic happenings still running on loop; or the worry for their family in Storybrooke, and for Killian, still gnawing away at his nerves.

Henry would be lucky if sleep found him at all this night.

His bandaged hand gripped the uninjured flesh of Killian's stump a little tighter; his mind veering off to one of his earlier conversations with Kida after being looked at by a healer, and being given a spare change of clothing.

 _"Tell me Henry, how is it your realm knows of Atlantis?"_

 _Returning to his seat and flexing his hands against the stiff bindings of the cloth bandages; Henry replied. "Where I come from, it's mostly myth, but there is one story that I find comes the closest to what I've seen here."_

 _"Really?" she asked with intrigue, silently gesturing for him to continue._

 _"Yes," he nodded. "It… roughly chronicles how you and Milo met." At her startled look, he gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry; I'm sure they got things wrong. My family isn't from my realm either, and let me tell you, their stories aren't depicted any better."_

 _"You aren't from their realm?"_

 _"I wasn't born in the Enchanted Forest."_

 _She hummed in thought before curiously asking. "Are there any other worlds that have our stories?"_

 _"Honestly?" he began; his mind suddenly wondering if there were any other realities involving his own family (a thought he filed away to think on later when he returned home). "I'm not exactly sure, but it is a high probability. I mean, in the Enchanted Forest, Atlantis was underwater and ruled by Poseidon and the Mer-people. And it my world, it's nothing more than stories."_

 _"That's… remarkable." She breathed in awe. "I… I guess I should have expected it after meeting your father, but..."_

 _"You never expected your home to exist… or suffer a different fate?" he finished gently for her when she trailed off._

 _"Yes,"_

 _Wanting his own questions answered, he began by starting off small. "Kida, in the tale from my world, there was a highway that led to your city, is that true?"_

 _"There was," She nodded. "Before it was destroyed. It was how my husband, and the crew he journeyed with, found Atlantis so long ago."_

 _"The stories never mentioned a second entrance, though."_

 _"The entrance you came through was built sometime after." She explained, as she stood and motioned for him to follow her toward the open archway of the large throne room. "We had always had our presumptions that there was land above us, but it wasn't until after the volcano had gone dormant again, that we discovered just how large that piece of land was."_

 _"And you found no one else living on it?"_

 _"No one alive." she answered solemnly. "The eruption must have wiped them out." She shook her head as her face tilted upward toward the high cavern ceiling. "We learned of their existence around the same time we learned of the artifact that once belonged to them."_

 _"What about the crystals?" he prompted hopefully, Killian never straying far from his mind. "From what I remember, it was said that they hold a great power, and they were able to heal most wounds." He glanced down at his bandaged hands and arms in confusion at that, just now realizing that the crystal hadn't been used at all during the procedure, and looked up in time to see Kida smiling forlornly at him._

 _"I'm afraid it doesn't work quite like how you think, young one." her hand reached up to clutch at her own necklace as she explained. "You are right about one thing, Henry; these crystals do have great power. It's what protects Atlantis and the people with in it. It's what has kept us alive for thousands of years, but it does not heal wounds. If it did, my father would still be ruling this kingdom."_

 _Henry deflated visibly at that. "So, my—"_

 _"That does not mean you should give up hope." She cut in sternly. "Since my husband's arrival, we have learned much in the course of four hundred years." His eyes widened at that, vaguely remembering that Milo's adventure had taken place in the early nineteen hundreds. Kida smiled gently at him as she broke him out of his thoughts by continuing. "Your father is in good hands, Henry." Her gentle smile shifted toward the mischievous side then—a trait Hakan must have picked up on from her. "And if memory serves me right, he's too stubborn to let something like this get to him."_

Henry snorted at the memory and at the surety in which Kida had spoken with. Even now, with Killian's life still hanging in the balance, he could hear her optimism ringing in his head as his eyes shifted to the prone form on the straw mattress. He may have had the heart of the truest believer, but even Henry had his limits. After all, there were only so many times Killian could cheat death before eventually one of them stuck.

Henry just hoped this wasn't that time.

There was also the matter of finding a way home.

 _"Is there anything I could use to get us back?"_

 _"I'm not sure." She answered and continued before he could allow the remorse to set in. "That does not mean it's impossible. You have to understand, Henry, that there was a long period of time where our history was buried and forgotten amongst us. It's through my husband's knowledge, and my own tenacity, that we managed to get Atlantis back to a semblance of what it used to be." She gestured to the stone pillars surrounding the throne room, and for the first time since stepping foot into the space, Henry took notice of the dull blue glow of the faces and hieroglyphs craved into them. "There are still things left of our history we have yet to uncover."_

 _"So, there could be something here?"_

 _"I can't make any promises, Henry, but if there is, Milo would be the one to find it."_

With a sigh, he squirmed around in his seat; the uncomfortable surface of the chair pulling him from his thoughts once again. Despite the urging from the healers (that he was no good to anyone exhausted, and Killian wouldn't want him to suffer like this), Henry just couldn't find it in himself to move away from the bedside. Not after being told there was nothing else they could do; that they would simply have to wait out the raging fever, and hope the tonics would counteract the plants venom. Killian's scarred skin, even through the layer of bandages around Henry's hand, felt hot to the touch and he prayed that Zeus wouldn't claim him this night.

He already had one father up there in Olympus; Henry refused to allow Zeus to claim the other.

Eventually, as the time ticked by, Henry managed to conk out when he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. But it was far from restful; his subconscious hanging on the balance of awareness and sleep as the healers periodically came in through the night to check on Killian.

"Don't make me forcibly remove you from this room, young man!"

He startled fully awake as he turned to stare at the elderly head healer (her no nonsense attitude reminding him a great deal of Granny, to the point he had a feeling the women would get along just great, if they were ever to meet). His blurry eyes cleared to see her disproving scowl, and he cringed, grinning sheepishly at her as he fidgeted in the seat.

"Sorry Aponi," was all he could manage as he moved to stand, his stiff back and knees popping after being left in the uncomfortable position for so long.

He didn't have a single doubt that her threat was a warning; her eyes watching his movements like a hawk as he ventured to the untouched bed on the other side of the room. When he was under the blankets, she nodded once in her satisfaction before moving to check on Killian, and he rolled onto his side and watched her as she worked. His eyes grew heavy again, but they refused to shut until he was sure everything was fine. And at Aponi's gentle hum and nod, he sagged farther into the soft straw mattress and snorted as he watched her pick up the chair and leave with it with one final glare of warning.

Sleep claimed him not long after.

(***)

A distressed noise penetrated the fog of sleep and startled Henry back into alertness. He blinked his blurry eyes rapidly to clear them, the dull rays of sun beginning to filter in through the sheer curtains covering the archways as he rolled over.

"Dad!" he yelled the moment he heard the noise again. It was a sound caught between a grunt and a whine, and in a blink, he quickly disentangled himself from the sheets and was by Killian's side in the next. "Dad?!" he hovered helplessly, his hands frozen in fear over Killian's convulsing form; not knowing if he was having a seizure or battling the demons in his sleep. "Help! I need help!" he yelled out; the faint red color, seeping onto the white sheet, startling him into action as he finally moved to pin Killian down. Only to duck and narrowly avoid getting hit as his left arm unconsciously swung out. "Someone help!"

Within seconds, Aponi and four others—three women and a younger man—were swarming into the room and pulling him up and off.

Henry struggled against the stronger, male healer's hold; all logical thought leaving as shock and panic found a home instead. He vaguely heard his name being called over the loud din of chaos, his ears ringing and his muscles straining to be freed as he was forcibly dragged from the room. It was only out in the hall, did Henry realize the loud noises were coming mostly from his own mouth. The healer, Paku—or had he introduced himself as Nahko—was saying something, but the words weren't registering. Every time Henry tried to take a step back into the room, the man was in his way; pushing against his shoulders and uttering words that were probably meant to sooth if Henry were actually paying attention to them. When it became clear he wasn't allowed back in, his irrational mind did the only other thing it could think of.

He pulled an Emma Swan and ran.

He ran as far and as fast as his feet and the uneven stone terrain would allow; racing down steps, past startled inhabitants and around sharp corners of market streets and buildings. He ran until he was at the outskirts of the city and even then he didn't stop. The air felt like knives against his lungs with each breathe he took as he pushed forward, hopping from slippery rock to slippery rock to traverse over the water toward a small cluster of ruins.

He slid a few times against the stones as he rushed across, the final time actually landing him into the deep, surprisingly unmoving—considering the surrounding falls—water as he spluttered to the surface and swam the rest of the way. By the time he reached the edge of the island, he was sore and slightly cold; having made the trip with bare feet and nothing but the borrowed cloth pants he slept in. They were nothing more than minor grievances—still too far gone in his shock to care—as he ducked underneath a leaning pillar and sat behind one of the boulders.

 _What's going to happen now?_ He thought dejectedly as he hunched in on himself and rested his cheek against his bent knees.

If Killian didn't make it, what was he going to tell his mom when he finally saw her again? How was he going to tell her that Killian had sacrificed himself for the fifth time? How could he tell her that he had failed to save him; that he wasn't cut out to be like the rest of his family?

The excitement he had felt at getting David's sword—a symbol of courage and of a hero—now felt like a hollow undertaking that he couldn't even dream of being able to fulfill.

(***)

He didn't know how long he sat there; just long enough for everything to grow stiff and his pants to dry, but other than that, the passing of time was all but lost to Henry.

The gentle babble of the surrounding water, and the roar of the falls, had done absolutely nothing to sooth him and his inner turmoil. It wasn't the crashing waves of the ocean. And the ruins he sat in, wasn't the familiar and comforting wood of the Jolly either. He wanted this to be a dream.

He wanted to go home.

The sudden shadow blocking the light, and the clearing of a throat, brought Henry's attention to the opening where a very tall man stood. His face was shadowed for only a moment until he ducked and made his way inside. He was pale skinned, solidly built, and looked for all the world like a Viking with his flaming red hair and bushy overgrown beard.

"There you are, we've been looking all over for you." he uttered with a small gentle smile; the timber of his voice, deep and rich as he squeezed to sit in the space across from him. "Just thought you'd like to know that your father is alright; Aponi managed to get him stable again."

Henry's shoulders sagged in relief.

 _He could still die_ , his traitorous thoughts piped up.

He tensed again.

"I'm Milo." The man spoke, effectively freeing Henry from the dark thoughts for now, as he shot his hand out for Henry to shake.

Henry simply gawked at him. Sure, he had had his suspicions the moment he saw him, but Milo was nowhere near to his cartoon counterpart; the earlier thought of Viking a far cry from the lanky, shorter scholar he was depicted as. Then his manners finally caught up and he fumbled forward to accept the offered handshake.

"It's an honor to meet you, Milo."

That gentle smile, half buried under red, curly whiskers, reappeared. "The pleasure is mine, Henry. I spoke with my wife and son last night, and they told me you seek of a way home?"

"Yes, do you know of anything?"

Milo shook his head. "I haven't come across anything yet, but we're still trying to free several stone slabs from the muck underneath the surface. Maybe there's something there?"

"Maybe," he trailed off, his thoughts creeping back.

Much like the day Emma stabbed Killian through the chest with Excalibur, the image of Killian convulsing wildly on the bed, would equally haunt his dreams for years to come.

"He's going to be okay." Milo urged.

"You don't know that." Henry couldn't help but argue back. "What happened anyway?"

"Aponi believes it was a combination of the venom and a bad reaction to the tonic. He must have been allergic to one of the herbs and his body didn't respond until after the second dosage." He explained. "But the situation is under control now. Aponi is giving him a new tonic and they'll be monitoring him more frequently to make sure it doesn't happen again." He then stood and extended his arm out once more as he gestured toward the exit of the nook. "Come, and I'll show you the proof, myself."

(***)

Henry refused to be removed from his bedside for the entire day and night after that; only straying out of the room when he needed to relieve himself or when Nahko would come in to clean up when Killian did.

Even Aponi knew better than to try; having brought in a comfier chair for him to sit on as he sat vigil by Killian's side. And with the healers bringing him things to eat and drink every time they came in to check on Killian's condition, Henry could do nothing more than sit back and wait.

(***)

On the second day, Killian's fever broke.

There was a little more color to the pale pallor of his skin, and his breathing didn't seem as strained as it had been from the start.

Aponi had high hopes that he would wake soon enough.

(***)

On the third day, Killian awoke for all of five minutes.

Henry had missed it.

The moment Killian's fever had broken, and they deemed that the worst of the venom's affects were over with; Aponi had gone straight back to nagging Henry from here to kingdom-come.

 _"You'll hurt your back if you continue to sleep in that chair."_

 _"You're too skinny; you need more meat on those bones, young man."_

 _"Go and stretch your legs a little; your father isn't going anywhere."_

It was during one such occurrence of nagging—with Henry appeasing her by heading down for the market—that he had managed to miss it. By the time Nahko had arrived, out of breath, to tell him the news and bring him back, Killian had long since succumbed to his exhaustion.

Henry wasn't willing to move from the room after that, no matter how much Aponi tried.

(***)

The second time came when Henry himself was asleep.

He was stationed back at Killian's bedside (despite Aponi's great displeasure against it); with his feet propped up on the straw mattress, and Killian's stump clutched loosely in his right hand.

The feeling of his arm being moved, had disturbed his sleep enough for him to groan irritably and loudly; thinking it was nothing more than Aponi coming back to forcibly remove him from the chair herself. He was just about to tell her he was fine where he was, at least, until he realized the hand grasping his wasn't dainty and wrinkled, but large and callused and no longer resting against the sheets of the bed.

His eyes snapped open and he swiveled his head to find Killian staring back; relief overruling the fatigue he could see on his face. There was a small moment where neither of them moved, for Henry couldn't quite believe his eyes. Then the moment was over as he jumped up and leaned down to hug him; his face burying itself against the crook of Killian's neck in his own relief.

"You're an idiot." Henry finally muttered against his skin as he felt Killian's left arm shift up to return the hug.

The resulting chuckle ended quickly on a wince as Killian rasped out. "Don't make me laugh, my boy; that hurt."

"Yeah," He snorted. "I stand by what I said."

Once he retrieved water for Killian's parched throat, and Nahko for a quick check up and some help with propping him up against the pillows; the questions came after. Henry filled in the gaps as best he could, relaying the parts of the story he felt necessary to tell, and how Milo and the others were working to figure out a way home for them.

"You know," Killian began, "Sometimes it's hard for me to believe how much you've grown. You aren't the little boy I helped save all those years ago in Neverland."

"I know; I hear it a lot from both moms…"

"You would hear it from your other father too, lad." They both smiled sadly at that. "Bae would have been just as proud of you as I am, Henry; don't ever forget that."

The silence that fell afterwards was comfortable, until Henry felt the need to break it. Three days surrounded by strangers and his own worry, would do that he supposed. Not to mention the fact that Killian's timber, no matter how raspy with disuse it was at the moment, always seemed to calm him in the past when Emma or Regina couldn't.

"So," he started; shifting in the chair and murmuring an apology as his foot knocked against Killian's leg. "Atlantis, huh?"

"I'm sorry lad, I—"

"It's okay, dad. I understand." he cut him off with a smirk. "It's just cool to hear you've always had the makings of a hero. Even when you were at your darkest."

Killian shifted his attention uncomfortably away at that, before catching himself and gazing back. "Well… what can I say? I had the right people there to guide me and remind me that I could be a part of something."

They shared a smile at that as the distant echo of the falls filled the silence once again.


	5. The Ancient Slabs Part 1

**Rating: pg-13 to be on the safe side**

 **Words: 3000**

 **((((((A/N: First, let me thank you for your patience, my muse—for the better part of two weeks—wasn't allowing me out of the KnightRook territory, but I finally managed to get this chapter done. Second, this chapter would NEVER have gotten finished if it weren't for theonceoverthinker (or ProtoChan as she's called here). She deserves a great amount of credit for this chapter and allowing me to brainstorm with her; I may have written it, but she was the one who took my "how to get home" plans and fleshed them out with me. So thank you friendo, I couldn't have done it without you! Also, I'm sorry this chapter is a bit on the short side, but I've decided to break up the chapter into two parts because the ideas were running wild with me. I'm currently working on chapter 6 now as I post this, so hopefully it won't take me another 3 weeks to post haha**

 **Also thank you for all the reviews guys; they give me life and keep me motivated to write. So thank you!)))))))).**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: The Ancient Slabs Part 1**

The markets were bursting with life, from the sights to sounds to smells as Henry patiently waited on the edge for Hakan to show up. There were people everywhere, the volume of Atlantian almost deafening as they worked and walked about; and the smell of spices and steamed seafood (or their version of seafood anyway, for Henry had lost count of how many eyes their shrimp-like creatures possessed, let alone the others) wafted about and made his mouth water.

To distract himself as he waited for his impromptu tour guide to show; Henry began to reflect on the past two weeks.

Killian was doing better with each passing day, and at his encouragement ("Who knows when we'll see Atlantis again, my boy."), Henry had finally felt at peace enough to venture away from the healers ward to really explore. Within that time frame, he had met Hakan's little sister Catori and many of the curious citizens of the metropolis; having asked and answered copious amounts of questions —some of which Henry should have been used to by now.

 _"We hold festivals and bonfires once a month. It breaks up the monotony, and my father loves to tell stories to the people." Hakan spared a glance in Henry's direction as he inquired curiously. "What is it you and your people do for fun?"_

 _"We go out and do stuff sometimes, but mostly at the end of the day we just sit and watch TV or play games."_

 _"TV?"_

 _"It's a device we have-shaped like a box-that allows you to watch people reenact stories, stuff like that."_

 _"And you all just stare at this box?"_

 _Henry laughed at Hakan's befuddlement. "It's no different than watching and listening to a storyteller. The only difference is you see the scenes coming to life as they're being told."_

 _"Fascinating!"_

But of all the realms he's ever read or heard about, Atlantis truly outshone them all and Henry was excited for this venture today; for Hakan finally had the time to show him around the excavation site.

"Henry!"

Henry startled from watching two vendor's going at it (the argument hard to follow with the language barrier; but from the gestures alone, he was able to get the gist of it), and turned to see little Catori racing far ahead of Hakan. He grinned and opened his arms wide for the girl—a stance he's taken on more than one occasion with uncle Neal—and braced himself as she barreled into him. Despite looking like a ten-year-old, she was light enough that he could scoop her up into his arms, smiling as she giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Hello Catori, you coming with us today?" he greeted her.

She was just about to answer back, having taken an excited breath to speak, when Hakan's voice cut in.

"Catori! What have I told you about running off?!" Hakan sighed in exasperation as he finally reached them.

"Like you ever listened…" Catori huffed lowly against the skin of his neck and Henry couldn't help but laugh outright at that.

"Sorry for the wait Henry," Hakan finally addressed him after one last look at Catori—who retaliated by sticking her tongue out and blowing a raspberry at him. "And I hope you don't mind my sister tagging along, mother's orders I'm afraid."

"Not at all," Henry answered easily, grinning down at Catori as she beamed back. "You'll show me all your favorite places, won't you Catori?"

She nodded eagerly and began to point in a random direction. "I know just the place to show you too!"

"You can show him _after_ I've taken him to papa's site." Hakan interjected sternly. At Catori's pout, Hakan rolled his eyes. "That might work for our parents, but not with me, Catori. We need to get going before papa wonders where we've disappeared to."

As Henry placed Catori back onto the ground so they could follow behind Hakan; he offered his hand for the girl to take and gave her a reassuring smile as she slumped her shoulders in disappointment.

"Don't worry; you'll have plenty of time to show me your favorite spots later."

(***)

The excavation site was on the other side of the large city—the space lacking in buildings and people—and walking the uneven terrain by foot was a bit of a pain (in all honesty, it wasn't; but Henry desperately wanted to ride one of those flying machines, and he would not be leaving this realm until he did). It was a place that Henry had yet to explore—even during his own adventures around the island—and he was excited to finally see these slabs Milo and his team had been trying to unearth.

"Here we are." Hakan stated as he ducked under the foliage.

As Henry and Catori followed, Henry was astonished at how many people were working around the location as well as the lack of technology being used (save for the mouthpieces that allowed them all to breath for longer underwater). It wasn't nearly as crowded and loud as the markets, but the chatter and orders still resounded back to his ears as they approached Milo—who was currently in the middle of a conversation. The moment he spotted their approach, he shooed the others away and turned to them with a broad smile.

"There you are; I was getting worried you might have forgotten." Milo greeted as he shifted to give Hakan a look.

"It was the one time papa," Hakan stated defensively. Milo continued to stare at him, and from beside Henry, Catori snickered. "Okay, fine, it was a few times; but it's been years now." he huffed. "Besides, I thought we were here to show Henry the slabs, not bring up my failings."

Milo grinned playfully at Hakan as he gripped his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I'm only teasing you, son," he then turned to Henry. "And you're right. Come Henry, I'll show you around the site before we dive and have a look underneath."

As he was showed around, Henry learned that it was merely by accident that they had stumbled upon the slabs.

It had all started two years ago when an earthquake had hit their city. It hadn't been strong enough to cause too much concern or damage, but while they had surveyed the foundation ("Best to be safe rather than sorry,"), they had stumbled upon a fissure that unearthed more of the Atlantian culture. They found artwork, old blueprints within the artwork, relics, and tools, even a catacomb of tombs. All the while, everything had been uncovered by hand, too afraid that their technology would damage the foundation or the old history beyond repair (which made sense to Henry the more he thought about it, for archaeologists did most of their digging by hand as well).

It wasn't until a month ago that they discovered the slabs underneath it all.

"And this is where I think it best to show you, Henry." Milo stated as he handed over a mouthpiece. "We believe there are eight in total, but the way they landed; we aren't sure if they're simply markers for tombs or if there is something written on the front of them."

As they reached the edge of the water, Hakan shot Henry a wide—almost unnerving—grin. "I hope you're a good swimmer Henry because they're down pretty deep." With a laugh, he and Catori dove in first.

Henry shared a glance with Milo at that, before bracing himself with the mouthpiece in place and diving in after them.

(***)

It was late into the evening by the time Henry made his trek back to the healing ward with dinner for himself and Killian in hand.

The swim down had been no easy feat, for Hakan hadn't been joking (his earlier mirth having grown more sympathetic toward him the longer they had ventured), and Henry was _beyond_ exhausted. His arms and legs throbbed and protested from the overexertion as he walked up the stairs to their temporary home; more than a little winded—mostly nauseated—by the time he crested the top. But the day's work out hadn't been the only reason for this feeling, for the plunge down that deep into the foundation had left him not only tired but disoriented as well; the water pressure having made his ears pop and throw his whole equilibrium off balance.

Which was why he felt so nauseated now, and as exciting as it was to see everything underneath the city; Henry was in no rush to do it again. All he wanted to do now was try and eat and sleep off the day's adventure.

Aponi's frustration shot that dream down.

Henry sighed.

"What did he do now?" he asked Nahko as he neared the room he shared with Killian.

"He's gone and pulled out another one of his stiches!" came Aponi's angry remark as she stomped out of the adjacent hallway. "At this point, he'll be on bed rest for another two weeks!"

Henry sighed once more.

 _Who was the adult here again?_ He internally groused; not at all in the mood for this right now.

"I'll go talk to him." he answered, sending the exhausted woman an equally exhausted look of his own.

By the time he made it into their room with their meal, Killian wasn't making eye contact.

Henry snorted in derision at that.

"You do realize she's only trying to help." He began as he walked over with their bowls in hand; pulling the chair across the room with his foot so he could sit by his bedside.

"I know, but I'm going crazy, lad." He retorted as he accepted the food. "I wasn't even in that blasted hospital for this long."

"That's because you checked yourself out from under the doctors' noses." Henry deadpanned. "I do know the sailors knots because of you, don't make me use them."

"Oi!" Killian feigned hurt. "That's mutiny,"

"No, it's called saving you from yourself… or Aponi if you continue to anger her."

"I've faced worse foes then her, but you can go ahead and try," he challenged. "You know I'll have them untied soon enough."

They stared each other down for what felt like several minutes; before Henry rolled his eyes skyward and uttered dryly. "You're impossible."

As they began to eat, Henry couldn't help but sneak glances up at Killian throughout the silence. In the past four years, Henry liked to think that he knew Killian well enough to know there was something wrong. A glance down as Killian rubbed the wedding band nervously with his thumb, told Henry all he needed to know.

"I'm worried about them too, you know…" He voiced and met Killian's eyes head on when the other startled and looked up from his plate. "But injuring yourself again isn't going to help us get home any faster."

"I know," Killian sighed and slumped against the pillows behind him; the weight on his shoulders breaking through the bravado. "I'm just…"

"I know," Henry replied solemnly.

(***)

The cool water felt good between his toes as Henry stared out at the fishermen in their longboats.

He was with Killian today (Hakan having gone up to the surface for patrol), and with nothing better to do; the two of them had gone down to the docks after stopping at the market for some sweets to share between them. It was a place that both of them were used to; the movement and sounds of men and women working a comforting and familiar feeling to both of them as they sat at the edge with their pants rolled up to their knees and their feet in the water.

"How much longer do you think it's going to take?" Henry murmured, his legs gently kicking back and forth in the lazy current.

"I don't know, lad." Killian sighed and shook his head. "I honestly don't know."

It's been a little over two and a half months since being brought to the city and within the first five weeks, Killian had mended enough to finally be moved out of the healers ward and into Milo and Kida's home; all four of the royals insistent that they stay with them for as long as it would take to get them home. It wasn't long after—when Killian could walk and move around on his own for longer periods of time—that Killian was off by the water and touring the city for himself—often times going with Henry and Hakan when he knew he wouldn't be imposing on their fun.

During that period of time, the work on freeing the slabs had been slow moving. There had been an issue a couple of weeks back where one of the slabs had been wedged too deep into the foundation. It was to the point that Milo had stopped all excavation efforts until he could figure something out, for damage to either was inevitable if they continued working the way they were.

Henry and Killian understood, but that didn't stop them both from being disappointed either.

They wanted to go home.

They liked Atlantis. They liked the people and friends they had made here, but there was only so much more either of them could take; the suspense of not knowing how their family was doing, digging a little more into their moral with each passing day. And with no way to contact or communicate with any of them (because it figured the one time Killian wasn't wearing the enchanted shell necklace would be the day peace was shattered in Storybrooke) they were stuck in this limbo state.

"Here, lad; you can have the last one."

Henry startled out of his thoughts and started down at Killian's outstretched hand, the last coconut glazed sweetbread resting in his palm and waiting for him to take.

"You sure?" he asked even as he enthusiastically moved to grab it.

Killian laughed. "I wouldn't have offered it if I wasn't, my boy."

The silence that settled between them didn't linger for long, the pounding of bare feet against the wooden boards reaching their ears. Henry barely had time to glance over his shoulder with Killian to see who it was before a small body was slamming itself into his back (and nearly knocking him off the edge of the pier in the process).

"Henry!" Catori greeted him; out of breath in excitement. "Henry, it worked!"

"Hold on, Catori." Killian urged the girl, chuckling as she nearly bowled Henry over again in her excitement. "What happened? What worked?"

"The slabs are freed." The voice from behind answered before Catori had the chance.

They turned to stare up at Kida in surprised shock; Henry's grin growing larger as he turned to share an excited look with Killian.

They were that much closer to going home.

(***)

They were _not_ that much closer to going home, they realized a few days later.

"Are you sure you can't read it?" Killian asked with a bit of desperation as they all stood around the massive stones in Milo's workshop.

"I'm afraid this goes beyond even _my_ knowledge." He answered gravely as he flipped through the journals scattered before him. "The writing on those slabs predates everything here. I highly doubt even Kida's father or grandfather would have known."

"So," Henry voiced. "What do we do now?"

"I…" Milo trailed off, not exactly sure what to tell them. "I'm sorry. I was so sure the answers we were looking for would be on these slabs."

"We'll just have to keep looking." Kida urged. "There has to be something here we're overlooking."

"Brother, what are you doing?"

Catori's inquiry brought their attention away from the debate and toward Hakan, the crystal around his neck and his eyes glowing an intense blue as he slowly made his way over toward the slabs.

"Hakan?!" Kida panicked, rushing forward only to be intercepted by Milo as he grabbed a hold of her arm and pulled her back. "Milo, why is this happening?! Atlantis isn't in any danger!"

"I don't know," he answered as he opened his other arm out to Catori when she moved to cling to them both. "You know the crystals have a mind of their own, perhaps they're trying to show us something."

Killian, more than a little confused, was about to open his mouth to ask what was going on when Henry stopped him with a shake of his head.

"I'll tell you the story later." He mouthed silently as they watched.

Hakan moved in a trance around the stones, his fingers tracing over the ancient runes and causing them to glow as he went. When all eight slabs were bathed in the neon blue light, Hakan began to speak.

It was guttural and angry, far deeper and harsher sounding than the Atlantian language as he spoke it.

"What's he saying?" Killian asked lowly, afraid to disrupt whatever was going on by speaking too loudly.

"I don't know, that isn't Atlantian." Milo answered.

"Or any other language known to us." Kida added.

Seeing the trance Hakan was in, reminded Henry of his similar experience four years ago; back when his mother's tragic future had seemed set in stone, and the pen had taken control to give them the answer they had been seeking all along.

They continued to watch until they couldn't anymore, the light growing brighter and brighter with each word Hakan enunciated and forcing them to shield their eyes.

Then, all at once, the chanting and the glowing stopped and they lowered their arms to find Hakan on his hands and knees; panting as if he'd run a marathon.

"Son?" Milo inquired as he and Kida rushed to his side.

Hakan didn't look at them as they helped him up, his eyes meeting and never straying from Henry's as he stated aloud.

"I know how to get you home."


	6. The Ancient Slabs Part 2

**I am sooooo sorry for this taking me almost 2 years to get back too, i do not deserve forgiveness. I had terrible writers block and i was almost tempted to post the rest of the story ideas for this piece so you guys would at least get closure. To see what exactly i had in mind when it came to ending this story. I'm glad i didn't.**

 **I might no longer be active in this fandom anymore (Avengers and Agents of Shield have their claws in me now), but i didn't want to leave you all hanging.**

 **I would also like to give credit to Onceoverthinker over on tumblr for helping me figure things out and allowing me to talk out the middle bits and just how to get them home. She deserves all the love honestly cause chapter 5 and this chapter wouldn't have been possible without her.**

 **There will be one more chapter after this, so thankfully the end is nearing. Again thank you for sticking with me all this time, and for those new to the story, i hope you enjoy!**

 **P.S. this is not betad, so any mistakes i may have missed i apologize in advance.**

 **Chapter 6: The Ancient Slabs Part 2**

 _"I know how to get you home."_

The words echoed like music to Henry and Killian's ears, but before either of them could speak up—the questions multiplying by the second—Milo beat them too it.

"How?" he pressed. "What did it show you?"

Hakan squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head back and forth a few times, almost as if trying to rattle the thoughts back into place as his parents helped him to sit at the desk chair.

"I don't even know where to start…" he stated; his voice strained and feeling exhausted and overwhelmed as his eyes bounced around at them all. "But… our world… it—" he shook his head again.

"What? What about our world?" Kida inquired gently, her fingers slipping into his hair to rub soothingly at his scalp.

"This wasn't always our home." he continued before his parents could interrupt. "Our ancestors were from another world. The slabs," he gestured wildly to the massive stones as the words tumbled from his mouth. "It tells of their story and how they managed to journey across other realms."

"Slow down, son, and start from the beginning." Milo urged; the scholar in him heavily intrigued as he shared a glance with Kida.

So Hakan did.

The world depicted in the stones was nothing like the one they lived in now. It had been lush and vibrant and surreal—a true utopian civilization that went well beyond what their imaginations could dream up. What awed him the most though, was the fact that the crystals hadn't always been crystalline. They had once been living, breathing, sentient beings that walked among them; beings that were _a part_ of their origin.

"They came from the stars," Hakan murmured in awe; his gaze settled on the ground as his hand reached up to touch and fist the now dormant stone around his neck. "They were the first true Atlantian's and we descended from them." His awed gaze moved up to his parents, his jaw slack and his head shaking slightly back and forth in disbelief. " _We're_ a part of the stars."

"So there _were_ aliens involved." Henry breathed out in his own astonishment. As all attention went toward him at his outburst, Henry grinned sheepishly and explained. "In the realm we—well I—hail from, there were multiple myths and theories of how Atlantis came to be and how it disappeared. Alien involvement was one of them."

"Well, if aliens are from the stars, then I guess so." Hakan answered; grinning slightly at Henry's enthusiastic smile.

"What are stars?" Catori piped up curiously from beside Kida. "Are they the constellations you draw and talk about papa?"

"Stars are what make up the constellations sweetie," Milo answered. "We'll take you up to the surface to see them one day, I promise."

"So what happened?" Henry cut in. "What made your ancestors settle here?"

"Their world's sun was dying."

And their world itself had been dying along with it. It had no longer been lush and rich with life but dried and barren—a husk of its former glory. Crops wouldn't grow anymore, water had become all but non-existent, and the magic—that some of their ancestors had once been able to wield—was waning. To preserve the life of their children, the elders—the originals—had sacrificed themselves to ensure a future would be had; thus the crystals were born.

"Those that remained intact built and infused devices with the crystals power, allowing them to… hop realms, as you say. It's what eventually led them to this world, for it was the closest to what they needed to survive." He held up the stone around his neck, the light of the candles catching and making it gleam. "So long as there is a sun, the power that protects our people and keeps us alive will remain."

"How is any of this going to get us home though?" Killian inquired with equal parts awe at the story and confusion.

"Our history isn't the only thing documented within the slabs." Hakan grinned first at Killian then at Henry. "There are blueprints on how to make the device our people used to get here." His grin widened along with Henry's. "And I know just how to do it."

(***)

"I don't understand why it's not working." Hakan shook his head in dejection; briefly meeting his father's and Henry's eyes before staring back at the useless compass and slabs "We did everything it told us to do, so why isn't it working?"

"Maybe we're missing something." Henry considered.

Hakan shook his head. "No, it's all here."

"But what if it isn't, son?" Milo inquired gently. "What if we're missing a piece to the puzzle? Henry, you told me that portals only operate a certain way in your world, correct?"

"Yes, mostly by wands or beans."

"All of which run on magic," Killian added.

"Yes! That!" Milo snapped his fingers at Killian with a smile. "Maybe magic is what we're missing!"

"But I thought that was what the crystals were for?" Henry stated, his face scrunching slightly in his confusion. "Didn't you say they were the essence left behind by the original Atlantian's who could wield magic?"

"Yes, that's why I'm confused as to why this didn't work." Hakan sighed out in frustration.

"For a long time, our people thought it a power source, Hakan." Kida began. "We built around it, but we didn't know how to completely wield it. We become hosts for _them_ to use when our world is in peril, not the other way around."

"So… what do we do now then?" Henry asked. "None of us are magic users, so—"

"Wait, that's not true," Killian interrupted; his eyes wide in realization as he sharply turned his attention toward Hakan. "I think you do."

Hakan and his family startled at that.

"I don't..." Hakan trailed off in confusion.

"You think our son has magic?" Kida voiced when her son couldn't finish.

"It's possible." He answered as he explained. "I've been exposed to magic and magic wielders for quite a long time. That day I met your son, I thought it nothing more than a fluke, but now I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean?" Henry urged when the others were too floored to voice it themselves.

"Do you remember everything that happened the day I met you?" Killian addressed Hakan.

"Vaguely." he answered, his head tilting slightly as he tried to recall the day. "It was a long time ago; I just remember being surrounded and feeling afraid. Then you saved me."

"That's the thing lad, I might have saved you from the other men, but the more I think about it, the more I'm almost certain you saved yourself first." At the growing befuddlement he stated. "I don't believe their leader stumbling and falling down the crevice was an accident, Hakan."

"You think I did it with magic?" He asked dubiously.

"Maybe you did and you didn't realize it," Henry piped up; side eyeing Killian in curiosity. "I mean, my mom went most of her life not knowing magic existed or that she could use it."

"Do you remember any strange occurrences through the years?" Killian probed; his eyes bouncing from Hakan to his parents.

Milo shook his head about to answer in the negative but froze when Kida suddenly gripped his forearm.

"Hun? What's wrong?"

"When you say strange occurrences," Kida ignored Milo's worry; her eyes shifting between Killian and Henry as she pushed on slowly and tentatively. "Do you mean, for example: things turning up out of place? Or a sudden shift in the air?"

"Like my tools going missing." Milo caught on.

"And toys from the market appearing in our home." Kida added.

"Yeah, things like that." Henry answered and shot Hakan a sympathetic gaze at how pale he suddenly looked with the conversation.

Kida was at a loss for words as she moved to hug her son.

"I always assumed it was a sign of our exhaustion." Milo voiced instead. "We had help from nannies of course, but we were still new, inexperienced parents trying to manage a kingdom on top of it. The occasional misplaced object was the farthest thing from our minds." He shook his head. "And when the occurrences stopped, we didn't think anything of it."

"Stopped?" Henry asked curiously. "When?"

"I don't know exactly when, but Hakan was still just a child."

Killian and Henry shared a look.

"Was it before or after I met you all the first time?" Killian inquired.

"After," Kida stated with such surety. "Our cooks used to complain about sweets going missing; no matter how high on the shelves they'd place them." She shot her son a side eyed look at that. "We knew it was Hakan; we just couldn't figure out _how_ he'd get a hold of them. Then after the incident it all just… stopped. I never heard them complain about it again."

"I am right here, you know," Hakan grumbled; his complexion still pale as he regarded them all. "Stop talking like I'm not in the room."

"Sorry son," Milo apologized as he gently placed his large hand over Hakan's shoulder.

"So you all think I have magic?" he shook his head, the doubt still clear in his expression. "How can that be, when shamans in our tribe have been gone for so long? Why me, and why would it suddenly stop?"

"I'm not sure, lad." Killian shrugged. "None of us back in our realm are entirely sure of it ourselves, but it's believed that the product of a true love pairing will sometimes have magical abilities."

"My mother being one of them." Henry added.

"True love?" Milo questioned.

"Yeah," Henry nodded. "The story I told you, the one I said came closest to how you and Kida met?"

"Your world considers us true love?" Kida breathed out more than asked as she shot Milo a small smile—who flushed as red as his beard at the news.

"Even if you weren't," Killian cut in. "Taking your recently discovered ancestry into consideration; you may have other magic wielders here that aren't even aware of it."

"But why would it suddenly stop?" Hakan asked again.

"Magic is built around emotion." Henry answered. "And you went through a traumatic experience as a kid, so it's likely your subconscious blocked it out."

"Just like a person who loses or partially loses their memory during trauma." Milo added.

Henry nodded. "It's not always the case, but I'm willing to bet that's what's going on here."

"Wait, wait, wait." Hakan interrupted, his eyes scrunched close and his fingers pressed to the sides of his temple. "If a product of true love can wield magic, then why aren't you doing this Henry?"

"Well—"

Kida tilted her head at that as she regarded Killian and Henry thoughtfully. "Are you not a product of your parent's true love?"

Henry gave Kida a half smile. "I was going to say: it must have skipped me. My uncle isn't magical either." His eyes strayed to Catori. "As I'm sure it also skipped your daughter."

"I can't do this." Hakan voiced with a shake of his head. "I don't know how to un-block it." Agitated, he began pacing the length of the room. "Who's to say my magic would be strong enough to complete this, or that I would be capable of wielding it? Or that I'd want-" he cut himself off, his breathing picking up slightly.

He didn't finish, but Henry didn't need him to complete it to understand what he was going to say. He also had a general idea of just what it was that was creating the block to Hakan's magic from that half sentence alone.

As Hakan paced closer, Henry stepped into his path, forcing him to stop, and moved his hands on top of his shoulders. His grandfather always did it when he was trying to have a one on one with Henry—his large palms calming and grounding in their strength—Henry just hoped his would do the same for Hakan in this moment.

"What happened wasn't your fault, Hakan." His voice was purposefully low, trying to give Hakan a semblance of privacy despite everyone in the room.

"I know…" he murmured back just as quiet.

"Then why hold on to that guilt?"

"I didn't want to hurt anyone else." Hakan answered honestly, loud enough for the room to hear. "I think I remember what my parents were saying, how things would just suddenly appear in my hands when I really wanted something. I just didn't know what I was doing was magic at the time. And when... well, I just thought something was wrong with me, that I was cursed for disobeying my parents. I didn't want to accidently hurt anyone else."

"Magic can be dangerous." Henry stated honestly. "But it can also be amazing. It just depends on what you do with it."

"You really think I can do it?"

"I do." he nodded. "You aren't a bad person Hakan, and I don't believe you could intentionally hurt anyone unless given reason. Don't let that fear rule you."

"I don't know if I can bring it back."

"It never went away, it's just hidden." Spotting the soft glow from around Hakan's neck, Henry grinned. "I think your ancestors can help, if you let them."

The crystal grew brighter as Hakan glanced down at it; his hand moving up to softly grasp it. After a moment, he nodded and met Henry's eyes.

"Okay, I'll try, but I can't guarantee it'll work."

"Something tells me it will."

They shared a small grin at that, before Henry was backing up to stand beside Killian once again.

"You can do this," Kida stepped up to take his place, gentle hands cupping Hakan's face as Milo stepped up to the side of them, his open palm landing to rest on his back.

"Even if it doesn't work, no one will blame you for it son. There's no harm in trying."

Kida nodded down at the necklace. "Just breathe and let them help you."

As the family helped Hakan relax, Killian leaned down slightly, his voice low for Henry to hear "I think all those heart to hearts are rubbing off on you, lad."

Henry rolled his eyes fondly with a smirk. "Shut up,"

Whatever retort Killian had, died on his lips as all the crystals in the room began to glow. The light coming from Hakan's began to spread; up his neck and down his arms until his entire body was incased in blue and through it all, Kida and Milo stood firmly beside him, acting as pillars of support as disembodied voices began to drift around the air.

Then all at once it stopped, leaving nothing behind but an out of breath Hakan.

"I can," he struggled to say, leaning against his mother for support as he tried to calm down. "I can feel it, the magic; they're channeling it for me."

"Channeling it?" Milo questioned.

"I don't know exactly what to do with it, it's all new to me, but they do." He glanced over at Henry and Killian. "Through me, they will be able to enchant the compass that will send you both home; but you need to give me until tomorrow. Whatever they did, it zapped my energy."

"And you're sure, lad? That they can do what you say?" The crystals around the room sparked to life, almost as if in retaliation to Killian's doubt, before they went dormant again.

"Yes, they can." Hakan answered earnestly.

Henry let out a whoop before he could truly contain it, the joy at the news spreading like wildfire.

After three months, they were finally going home.

Now hopefully there was still a home to get back too.


End file.
